Out of Requirement
by fizzingweaselbee
Summary: In the room where everything is hidden, you'll find more than just objects. Stories end up there too. (HBP compliant)


Hermione had forced Harry to go to bed, adamantly telling him she would be fine; that she just needed a minute. Instead of staying where she was, she began to wander, making sure to stay away from the Astronomy Tower – she knew that was where Ron and Lavender were; Harry had found them on the map before he left.

She found herself on the upper floor though, wandering up and down the same corridor.

_I just need somewhere to hide, somewhere to forget. _She thought as she walked, and, with a loud sucking sound, a door appeared in the wall next to her. It wasn't what she had planned - hell, she had forgotten that the Room of Requirement was there - but Hermione opened the door and slid herself through the gap.

What she found took her breath away. Piles and piles of things stacked all which ways – a tidy person's nightmare. She wondered how long it would take for her to sort it, whether it would occupy her racing mind to alphabetize or categorize the miles and miles of things people wanted hidden or forgotten.

She walked along the aisles, stopping occasionally to look closer at some things, but mostly moving north, guided by her wand. She stopped abruptly when she heard the broken record player. It repeated the same three words, the jarring noise in between each play causing her nerves to tingle and her grip to tighten on her wand.

Over the noise she heard swearing, and then a smash. She peered around the pile to find Malfoy slumped against a cupboard, glaring at an apple resting on the ground in front of him. Malfoy's hair was messed up from raking his hands through it repeatedly in frustration, and his eyes were bloodshot, a stark contrast from his grey-tinged skin. His cheekbones jutted out more than usual. _What has he been doing? _

Despite her curiosity, the broken record was unnerving her, and she moved to take a step back. In doing so, she dislodged a box from the pile, and it fell to the floor with a loud clatter, its contents spilling.

Malfoy moved fluidly to his feet, his wand pointing at the tower of objects. "Who's there?" Hermione cast a silent Disillusionment charm, hoping he'd put it down to chance. He did not.

"Homenum Revelio." Hermione felt a warmth brush over her, and when she looked down, her body no longer resembled what was behind her. "Granger." She felt a wand press against her collar bone, and Malfoy's breath was hot on her cheek.

"Step away from me, Malfoy," Hermione commanded, her voice steady.

"Did you follow me here?" Malfoy asked.

"It's the Room of Requirement; unless I knew what you were thinking, I couldn't get in." Hermione smirked as the realisation dawned.

Malfoy pushed away from her, leaving his wand pointed at her stomach. "Why're you here, then?"

"None of your business. Why're you here?" Hermione countered, wrapping her arms around her stomach in a defensive gesture, her wand poking her in the rib.

A smile stretched across his face. "None of _your_ business."

"Should have seen that one coming." Hermione sighed. "Can I go? Or are you going to keep me here forever in case I tell someone you were swearing at a bird?" Malfoy eyed her suspiciously.

"Go ahead, leave. But don't come back." She did as he ordered, turning without another word and trusting her wand to get her to the door.

Malfoy counted to 100 before he followed her out.

* * *

She didn't mean to go back – she intended not to. But her intentions changed after a particularly bad day a week later.

As soon as the doorway appeared, Hermione slipped inside, resolving to go in a completely different direction to last time. She searched for a window in vain, having to settle for a bench next to a lamp. She switched the lamp on, and under its dull light, curled her legs up and began to cry.

When Malfoy walked in, the sound of sobbing echoed through the room. Despite its size, the sound of sorrow seemed to carry. Tempted as he was to ignore it and continue to work, he knew he had to get rid of whoever it was before he could begin. So he followed the noise to its source.

Hermione looked up to find Malfoy glaring at her, wand trained on her forehead.

"Didn't I tell you not to come back here?" He demanded, ignoring the tears dripping down her cheeks.

Hermione wiped her eyes quickly. "I came at an entirely different time, and to a different place. I didn't exactly want to see you. Or anyone." She stood. "I'll be leaving, then."

"Not until you swear you won't come back." Draco stopped her by holding his arm out, exerting a little force to propel her back to her seat.

"Why? It's not your room. You're not the only one with issues." Hermione was the one glaring now, incensed by his selfishness.

Draco laughed mockingly. "Has the poor Mudblood been upset by Weasel's infidelity? Did Granger get an E instead of an O in Charms? Is Potter beating you in Potions getting you down?" His voice was cruel, using her as an outlet for the anger he felt towards Snape.

"Fuck you." Venom dripped off of the two syllables, even more potent because Hermione never swore.

"Hit a weak spot, did I? Three out of three?" Draco continued to mock her, the flaring in her nostrils showing that he was close to breaking her.

"You got the three least important problems in the list, Malfoy, well done. Why're you here then?" She turned the conversation on its head, her eyes still gleaming with tears but her smirk was back. "Are you upset about Daddy being locked away? Is Mummy not as much fun without her husband? Did some _filthy_ muggleborn touch your robes so you had to have them burned?" She advanced on him with each sentence, rage burning away the moisture in her eyes because _how dare he presume so much about her_.

It was his turn for venom. "You know fuck all, so stop acting like you do." His swearing was less effective; she was used to hearing it.

"Really? Because if you ask me," she paused, and the mannerism reminded Malfoy strongly of the way Bellatrix talked, "I hit several nerves." Her manic grin, too, was a strong reminder of his Aunt – too strong of a reminder.

"You're looking like Bellatrix on a bad day, Granger. St Mungo's for you." Malfoy cleared his throat as his voice broke on the last word. Hermione ignored him and made to push past him, but he blocked her way.

"Get out of my way, Malfoy, or I swear they won't find your mutated body for _weeks_." Anger made her very violent, Malfoy noted, as she withdrew her wand. He stood aside, sweeping his arm to show her where to walk.

He waited until he heard the door slam before he retraced his steps and began to walk north.

* * *

He visited the room and the cabinet nearly every night, but it wasn't until after Christmas when he came across Hermione Granger again. He found her leaning against the cabinet, reading a book.

"You're back." It wasn't a question, and Hermione didn't look up from her book, though she'd stopped reading as soon as she heard his footsteps.

"This is a vanishing cabinet, right?" She asked, turning the page.

Draco licked his lips agitatedly. "It doesn't matter what it is. Why are you back?" She stood up without looking at him, brushing herself down.

"I'm back because I heard some funny things about Borgin and Burke's this Christmas. And I wanted to ask _you_ about it." She crossed her arms, book in one hand and wand in the other.

Draco shrugged. "Why would I know? Go in the shop and ask. Though it'll be more like asking for a hanging; they'll smell the dirty blood as soon as you walk in the door." He sneered, but his insult seemed to slide off of her like rain on an umbrella.

"I already went in and asked, they answered some of my questions. None of the ones I had about you." She twirled her wand. "This was in the summer, though, after you went in with _darling_ Mummy."

Draco looked her up and down, noticing subtle changes in the way she stood, and the blank look in her eyes. "Something's changed you, Granger. Has Weasel been telling you about his sex life?"

Hermione rolled her eyes, shifting her weight. "Do you never come up with anything original? It's either Mudblood or Weasel or ugly or Scarhead. Be imaginative. You boys are all so narrow minded."

"Terribly sorry that I'm not up to scratch, Granger," Malfoy drawled, eager to get her to leave so he could resume his work.

Hermione shrugged her shoulders and grinned. "Don't worry, not many people are." She strode past him; leaving him wondering if that had been an insult or a compliment.

* * *

She went straight to the Room of Requirement - but _honestly_, a 'Sweetheart' necklace? And Won Won? Hermione shivered in disgust. She knew she'd miss the last two lessons, but Ancient Runes was difficult with full concentration, and she didn't have half of her brain in gear right now.

She was past the crying stage, she'd moved on to anger. She needed to smash things, or burns them, or… she heard a muttering, and realised her feet had automatically led her towards where Malfoy usually worked.

"Any luck?" Malfoy jumped, and whirled around, wand pointing towards where Hermione reclined against a mirror leant on a tall stack of chairs.

"You again; do you ever leave? Is this a nicer home than your filthy Muggle house?" Malfoy sneered at her, letting his frustration seep into anger.

Hermione raised an eyebrow. "My house is remarkably clean, actually. And I was looking for somewhere to vomit, as a matter of fact." She mentally shook herself at her stupidity; the look Malfoy was giving her confirmed how idiotic she'd sounded.

"Pregnant with a Weasel-Mudblood mutation?" Draco leant against the wardrobe and folded his arms, mirroring Hermione without noticing.

"Nausea induced by the sickly sweet WonWon-Lavender relationship," Hermione countered, her honesty startling both of them.

"Well, at least someone's of the same mind set," Malfoy muttered, looking down and missing the smile that tugged at the corners of Hermione's lips.

"I think everyone is thinking the same when it comes to them. Even Ronald." Hermione smiled wider as she recalled his constant complaints about the amount of chapstick he was getting through, and how light headed he felt from lack of air.

"Yes, probably." The civility of the conversation led to silence, until Hermione pushed off of the mirror and left, walking to the door and then away to her bench.

The niceness of their conversation left a weird aftertaste in both of their mouths for the next few days.

* * *

_Just a stupid bird. _Malfoy berated himself. _This is good. This is good. Stop fucking crying._ His body refused to listen to his thoughts, and the tears continued to fall. He slid to the floor, resting the bird's body between his feet and staring at it.

When Hermione opened the door, she heard quiet crying through the winding alleyways in the room. She didn't know who she expected to find - part of her had been hoping it wouldn't be Malfoy - but the source of the noise reared his blonde head when she stopped in front of him.

"You alright?" The words were much gentler than she intended, and she berated her weak heart for going out to Malfoy.

"Fucking fantastic, Granger. Piss off," he replied, eyes still fixed on the unmoving body between his feet.

Hermione regarded him for a minute, trying to establish if he had lost his mind. "Why are you staring at a dead bird?" She finally asked.

"I am contemplating the inevitability of death, Granger. How soon would you like yours to be?" He looked up at her huff of amusement, and she quickly schooled her features into a more neutral look.

"Can we wait til next week? I've got a trip home scheduled, you see." At the thought of home, it was no longer a struggle to keep herself from laughing, and she stood abruptly. "Good luck with resuscitating the bird. Mouth to beak counts as bestiality." And on that note, she left for her bench.

* * *

"Of course he doesn't fucking remember. 'Boggled' my arse, he doesn't want to be with you. You kissed, for fuck's sake, and he conveniently 'forgets'. Why do you even bother?" Hermione muttered to herself, pacing back and forth in front of the bench. She'd been quietly yelling at herself for the past half hour, all because of Ron and the night at the Hospital Wing. She was glad nothing more than kissing had happened, although it would have been entertaining to see him try to work his way out of _that_.

Malfoy skidded to a stop in front of her, clearly having jogged from his normal spot. "Granger, noise carries in here; could you keep your mental break down to a minimum?"

"I'm terribly sorry, why don't you go brood somewhere else? I was here first." She could attest to that, as she heard the door open ten minutes or so after she sat down.

"Because I am not brooding. And you can do… whatever you're doing elsewhere." He stared at her in disgust, taking in her less than appealing appearance. Her hair was more of a mess than usual, and he discovered that she wore make up, but only by the black tear tracks running down her cheeks.

Hermione eyed him right back, taking in the dark circles that seemed drawn on, they were ingrained so deeply into his skin. "What're you working on that's so important? Something I should tell Dumbledore about?" The words barely left her mouth before his wand was on her throat, and he walked her backwards until she was pressed up against a painting.

"Don't even _think_ about it, Mudblood. I'll vanish your tongue so quickly you'll have no time to plead."

Hermione turned her head to face him; found him so close that their noses almost touched. "Touchy." When she exhaled, his fringe danced, and she stifled a giggle.

"Just keep it in mind. And find somewhere else to whine about your banal teenage girl dramas." He took a step back and turned, walking back the way he came.

"Warning me off hasn't worked before, why do you think it would work now?" Hermione called after him.

* * *

Hermione sat in front of the cabinet and waited. She knew that he'd still be in the Hospital Wing, but part of her thought he might sneak out and come here. Then she remembered how he'd looked, on the floor surrounded by water and blood. She shivered, realising he probably wasn't even conscious, let alone able to walk. She rose to leave, but she hadn't made it five steps before she heard someone else. Someone familiar.

She hid behind a pile of clothes and books, watching Harry walk past. He placed the book inside the cabinet, began to walk away, and then paused. His eyes scanned the piles around him, and Hermione shrunk back as he reached for the tiara atop the pile she hid behind. He placed a toll statue, and then the tiara, on top of the cabinet before retracing his steps, and Hermione felt she could breathe again.

She waited every night for four weeks before she saw him again. His skin had gained colour, but he looked more tired than before, and she could see the bandages through his shirt.

"Have you been sleeping here, Granger?" He asked when he saw her, and she quickly looked up from her book, closing it with a snap.

"I wanted to check you were alright," she mumbled, feeling stupid now that he was here.

"Heard of owling?" Malfoy winced in pain as he slid to the floor a few feet from her, taking in the worry lines that creased her eyes.

Hermione rolled her eyes at his insinuation. "Yeah, because that wouldn't have been suspicious." Malfoy inclined his head in acknowledgement, and they lapsed into silence.

"I should go. I promised Harry and Ron. And I know you're okay now, so…" She'd never felt so awkward in all her years at Hogwarts, and his stare did nothing to help with that. "I'm sorry for what Harry did. It was an accident, and you were going to use an Unforgiveable, but I'm sorry." She span on her heel and hurried away, leaving a bemused Malfoy to see how much of his work had degenerated since he was last there.

* * *

He wasn't waiting for her; he was waiting for a response from the others. That's what Malfoy told himself. That and he needed to escape the endless parade of teachers who were hounding him for his drop in grades. He could hardly explain that he had his life on the line, so _Charms_ was hardly a priority. Malfoy had nearly laughed in McGonagall's face at the suggestion of tutor sessions, and Snape had been speaking to him frequently about his lack of respect – as if a deduction of house points or threats of detention could sway him.

"I am going to be ranting for a good hour or so. If you don't like that, you can leave." Her voice was shaky as she announced this, but her gaze was steady as she looked down at him. They'd seen each other erratically over the past two months, and the conversation ranged from civil to non-existent. This would, apparently, be the latter. Malfoy couldn't help but feel disappointed.

"You may as well rant at me. I'd rather hear what you're saying than just hear the echoing buzz," he admitted, and Hermione raised an eyebrow.

"What makes you think I'd want you to know my problems?" Hermione challenged.

Malfoy shrugged. "I already know what's bothering you; Weasel was pretty much yelling about it by the Potions cupboard yesterday."

"Oh really. And what did he say, might I ask?" Hermione folded her arms, nostrils flaring in annoyance. She would _kill_ Ron later.

"He was talking about your Dad, actually." Malfoy tried to say it delicately, but colour still rose in her cheeks.

Hermione choked down a sob before replying. "That's really none of your business."

"I never said it was. I was just answering your question." Malfoy's glance took in her shaking hands. "I can identify with your father issues."

Hermione laughed mirthlessly. "Having a father with cancer and having a father who hates you are two completely different things, Draco. Go fuck yourself." She stormed away, furiously wiping the tears from her eyes before they could fall.

Draco ignored the sentence before his first name, wondering how something as simple as a Christian name could change a person's entire outlook.

* * *

Two months later, and they met for what Draco knew to be the last time.

He wasn't sure about what they were, exactly. He'd thought often about it, and wondered if she did too. He very much doubted it.

So when Hermione burst out of an aisle into the space they always met at, he was unprepared for her to press her lips to his. When he responded he tasted salt, and realised what had brought her here.

He pushed her away gently, noticing her bloodshot eyes and tearstained cheeks. "Granger, you will regret this in the morning," he informed her.

"I won't be here in the morning," she replied, and he didn't have time to try to understand what she meant by that, because she pressed herself against him and kissed him again.

Draco knew he should stop it. He knew it when he moved his mouth down her neck, leaving marks as he went. He knew it when his fingers brushed over her bra. He knew it when she pushed his underwear off of his hips, and he knew it when he stroked her slit.

She forgot who he was; she lost herself in the feelings and the now of it all. She forgot where she was, why she was there, and she forgot her name as he thrust into her. And that was all she'd wanted.

Right now, he was her Obliviate, and she was his Reparo.

* * *

Draco knew they had to leave; they had to get out before someone found the body. But he waved the other Death Eaters away and watched them run into the forest before turning on his heel and walking quickly into the entrance hall and up seven flights of stairs.

She wasn't there. He hadn't wanted her to be, but he half expected to see her sitting with her back against the cabinet, a book resting in her lap.

He left a note, instead, propped up against the base and addressed to her.

* * *

She didn't think to go into the room until weeks after they had found Dumbledore's body, but on the day of the funeral she returned. She didn't know what she expected to find, but a letter wasn't it.

_Hermione,_

_I want to apologise for not telling you, and for taking advantage of you last night. I'm sorry about your father. I do have one request – leave what happened between us here in the shelves. Leave it in the room of the hidden and forgotten. It's where it belongs._

_You fixed me. I hope I offered a comfort to you._

_Malfoy._

She wouldn't allow herself to cry, not over Draco Malfoy. She had seen his mark on the night, of course she had. But she had also had other things on her mind. So she pushed the memories of the note, and of Draco, into a box in her mind and labelled it 'Hidden and Forgotten'.


End file.
